So Lonely
by Vera Roberts
Summary: Naomi was looking for comfort. Randy was looking for an easy lay wherever he could get it. But when the one he has his sights set on is taken, is he willing to be a backseat participant? Randy, OC,
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Well, it's been a while since I've updated anything. For those who are curious, I'm working a lot more than I have been—hence the lack of updates. But I'm off on Memorial Day so I should spend a lot of time updating._

_In terms of this story…it kinda popped into my head. I'm not sure if I want to keep it as the one-shot cliffhanger that I originally intended because honestly, I have four other stories working on that need my dire attention and a new one that's starting pretty soon. Yet, I'm one to please the readers so I'll play it by ear. _

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The incessant pounding on the front door went on for about twenty minutes. For the first five minutes, he laid in bed and pretended he was asleep so she would go away. The last fifteen he spent in bed because he was an asshole like that. He knew why she was banging on his door in the middle of the night. And he knew if he wanted to, she would bang on the door all night until she got his attention.

She had his attention, all right. Now it was a matter of keeping it. It was no secret that Randy Orton had an attention span of a three-year-old child. If the interest wasn't related to wrestling, rims, or ass, Randy Orton simply did not give a fuck.

Deciding he needed to get up and see what she really wanted, Randy grabbed the closest pair of boxer briefs he could find and slipped them on. He yawned and wiped his eyes as he turned on the doorway light by the front door. He glanced through the peephole and saw exactly who it was. _Surprise, surprise. _

Randy stood at the door for about a minute and contemplated whether he should let her in. At 10:45 at night, it was late enough for dinner yet convenient for an early booty call. Deciding that he would be pleased with either one, though he preferred the latter, Randy slowly opened the door.

"Yes?" He asked.

Naomi Withers rubbed her bare shoulders in the moonlight. She didn't know exactly why she was at Randy's apartment. The idea sounded great in her head about 30 minutes ago. But she also knew her visit that night was along the same lines of the visit she had to his place several times in the past. He was a drug and she was a crackhead ready for a fix.

Standing in front of Randy, who obviously looked annoyed, made her re-think the sudden late-night visit, however. "I'm lonely."

Randy lit up a cigarette. Right about now, he was jonesin' for a joint but a Marlboro was going have to do. He was already in enough shit with the hotel room incident overseas; he didn't need to give his haters another reason why he should be fired. "You're always lonely, Naomi."

"Fine, I'll go back to my apartment. Forget I even bothered you."

Randy quickly grabbed her hand and Naomi froze in her tracks. He blew a plume of smoke away from her face. As he looked at Naomi, he knew why she was visiting him so late that night. It was the same reason she visited him late every other night. "Come in. It's cold outside."

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Naomi Withers and Randy Orton were part-time lovers. They hated each other with a passion. Yet, they fucked each other with the same angry passion.

A couple years ago, Naomi moved into Randy's complex just as he was on house show suspension for failing the Wellness Policy. He was outside smoking a cigarette when he noticed a pretty brunette, carrying heavy moving boxes upstairs to her new apartment. Extending a hand to her while checking her out at the same time, Randy helped Naomi settle into her apartment. In return, she invited him over for a home cooked meal.

So it began. A relationship that was border lining on being romantic yet beyond just platonic friendship. It was a cat and mouse game of getting to know each other. Randy would occasionally flirt with Naomi, complimenting her on her looks, clothing, and especially her cup size. Naomi would roll her eyes and give Randy a retort of some fashion, though she secretly liked the attention.

Settling into his king-sized bed, Naomi stripped down to her underwear and curled up against Randy, who reeked of cigarette smoke. "Aren't you going to shower?"

"Aren't you going to show me how you use your DSLs?" He countered.

"My DSLs?"

"Yes, your dick-sucking lips, DSLs." Randy explained

"Fuck you, Orton."

"If you want." He smiled. He caressed Naomi's face in the darkness, emitting a soft murmur from her. When he was home, it was same routine. He would get off from the road; she'll make him dinner and leave to go to her apartment—just to come back several hours later. "What happened this time?"

"Nothing, Randy." Naomi yawned. "I'm just lonely."

_How in the fuck can you be lonely? _"Again?"

"Let's not start this right now, Randy. I've had a long night."

"Fine." Randy conceded. For a few years, he's been respectful of the situation Naomi was in and keeping his opinions and commentary to himself. However, he was finding himself growing weary of the real-life One Tree Hill drama. What was he expecting? He wasn't entirely sure. It was a routine that Randy was used to. It was also a routine he wanted to put an end to before feelings were caught. "Scary, isn't it?" He whispered.

Naomi yawned and rolled over. "What's scary?"

"That you're here with me…" He whispered as he pulled her body closer to his. The heat between the pair was electric. It was only a matter of time before a condom was slipped on and pillows were bitten. "…and not with your man at home."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Originally, this was only going to be just a one-shot. I'm still not sure if I want a full-length story out of this but here's another chapter to tie you over. Thank you for the reviews! They are greatly appreciated._

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He spent a good portion of the evening staring at the ceiling. He spent the other portion staring at his bedmate. She was wearing boy-shorts that left very little to the imagination, begging Randy to spread her cheeks and give it to her doggystyle. She borrowed one of his tank tops that hugged her ample breasts so tightly, Randy swore he saw Naomi's areolas winking at him. Yet, he couldn't make one single move on her. She was sleeping in his bed and he was being considerate enough to let her sleep in ease.

She was torturing him by doing absolutely nothing. _Bitch._

As Randy adjusted his position to face Naomi, he let out a deep sigh. For three years, he has dealt with her shit. For three years, he was the "secret." He was frustrated. He was pissed off. Most importantly, he was hornier than a motherfucker. His lover was sleeping his bed and he could've sworn every crevice of her body was calling him to fuck her. And, his hands were officially tired from the on-going masturbation he did since she fell asleep a few hours prior.

Feeling Randy's eyes on her, Naomi didn't bother to meet his gaze. For all she cared, he could stare at her until dawn. She needed to get away from her home situation for a few hours, even if it meant Randy wasn't going to get any play. "What is it, Orton?" She whispered.

Randy caressed her face again and she slightly moaned at his touch. Randy was respectful enough to masturbate in the bathroom. However, Naomi wasn't sure if he was trying to disturb her by his loud moaning or the rapid-fire flesh slapping. Knowing she didn't hear a faucet turn on, the only concern Naomi had was if Randy's hands were sticky. If he she wanted him to touch other parts of her anatomy, she would let him know.

But he knew the routine. She would come over and rest in his bed for a short while. They would get into a small debate about her home life before proceeding with sex. She would soon go home before daybreak. She needed comfort, not sex. He was sensitive to her situation and understood what was happening. It was something he was accustomed to. It was something that has been on going for the past three years.

It was something he hated. "You didn't answer my question," he replied.

Taking in a deep breath, Naomi let out her frustration. The arrangement was simple enough. They were neighbors that just happened to be sex partners. Sometimes when they didn't hate each other, they were friends. But Randy was prying too much into something that had nothing to do with him. "I'm not concerned," she finally spoke.

"So he knows you're over here?"

_Here we go again. _"I thought we weren't going to talk about my husband, Randy."

"We're not," he then replied, "Just wondering if Gay Boy Wonder is going to interrupt tonight."

Naomi gave Randy a cynical glare. From day one she has known him, Randy always provided his personal views and off-color commentary on the pairing. Shannon Koch. The name brought out schoolgirl giggles and endless jokes from Randy. _The name alone tells me he sucks cock, he once kidded with Naomi, is that why you never changed your name?_

_Part of it, _Naomi thought. The other reason was obvious to anyone who knew Shannon. If there was an example of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' Shannon's face would be found in the dictionary. He was the son of a Republican senator who was against anything remotely homosexual. Shannon's father, Edward, was a frequent guest on right-wing talk shows and led any protests against gay marriage. Shannon was his leading spokesman and never shied away from his own feelings on homosexuality. On the cover, Shannon appeared to be his father's right-hand man.

Yet, it was just that—a cover. Shannon represented everything wonderful and free about homosexuality. He was a frequent visitor at the hidden gay nightspots in St. Charles and maintained a secret relationship with his gay lover. But if Shannon wanted any future in politics, his sexuality had to be kept under wraps. And what better way to do that by having a faux marriage with a then-unsuspecting Naomi Withers.

Naomi knew exactly where her husband was, just like he knew what she was doing at the moment. It was a sadistic game of 'I Know What You're Doing' and neither one wanted the other to win. "He's not going to interrupt, Randy." She assured.

"Good." He then nudged her to turn over. He cupped her ass and smoothed his hands over her amber-colored skin. He reached a hand over to her heat and began to pleasure her. Naomi responded by opening her legs to accommodate the feelings.

Despite what was going on in her debacle some called a marriage, Naomi had to admit Randy was her saving grace from insanity. From his chiseled body to the soft baby blues that called her, Randy was a wet dream no one wanted to wake up from. His tongue was explicit, experimenting in different techniques to make her body scream. His hands were magical with his long fingers that played every note on her body, creating new orgasmic highs with every climax.

But it was his dick that Naomi loved the most. It was long, thick, and perfect. She loved to suck him off and he loved to let her. She could get on top of him and ride for hours while he massaged her clit. He could be soft and sensual or hot and dirty. By all means, Randy was the perfect lover.

Getting her soft and wet, Randy's thoughts quickly dissipated from playing second-fiddle to whether he had enough Magnums to last throughout the night. He'll deal with Naomi's fake-ass marriage later.


End file.
